


Object Not Intended for Insertion

by fyredancer



Series: Object Fixation [1]
Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Crack, M/M, Masturbation, Object Insertion, Twincest, heavy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 07:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/pseuds/fyredancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there's a label warning, someone tried to DO it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Object Not Intended for Insertion

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something in the spirit of MMOM. Thank you ma_chelle for putting up with my perversities and short notice beta-duty!
> 
> This is actually Bill/object. I am such a dirty pervert.
> 
> So I had this random urge to write Bill/object the other day and norcalnoise helped me pick something. :D This may in fact be one of the weirdest things I've written.

Bill wants it.

He's been eyeing it up ever since Tom got it delivered and has been boasting about its features and vibration capability.

Tom has been using it non-stop, though, every waking hour when they're not dog-walking or otherwise occupied and so Bill watches, he waits. He is poised to pick his moment.

He's going to have his way with Tom's new toy, and there's nothing Tom can do about it.

It doesn't take planning so much as opportunity. They're in a brief, cherished down time and Tom is home virtually all the time, and the toy is in his hand for a good deal of that, driving Bill wild. He casts longing glances at it when Tom's not looking; chews his lip and rolls his tongue stud around his mouth and shifts restless on the couch until Tom threatens to get up and leave.

He doesn't _sleep_ with the toy, though. Tom is not that devoted, and a bedful of twin and dogs are enough to contend with.

After Bill's been simmering for a week, he lies awake thinking about it for most of the night. The pale gray of early morning is outlining the room in shadow haze and Bill's flipping his tongue stud against his teeth to hear the dull clack as he contemplates the way Tom's prized possession could make him feel so, so good. Tom's snoring in counterpoint to one of the dogs, both of them heavy enough to put thunder's growl to shame, and Bill is horny and very much awake and no longer in the mood to remain frustrated.

He climbs out of bed on quiet sock-clad feet. He fetches a condom and lube, soundless as he's able from the bedside table and fastens the door shut behind him, because it won't do for a pervy dog to interrupt in the middle of Bill's ~ _special time_.~

Bill stands on the far side of the couch and regards the line of remote controls arrayed neat as a rule-stick on the coffee table. He licks his lips as his eyes fall on the new, flared head Wii remote that Tom has been raving about all week.

It's perfect. It's got the vaunted vibration function, of course, and it's the right shape for Bill to get even more pleasure out of it than Tom does. Bill already has just the right game picked out. The slightest motion from him will trigger the vibration function and set the wand to gyrating.

It's got a thick rubber sleeve already, but Bill rolls the condom over it and sets it aside for the moment. He casts about for a towel, keeping that near to hand as he pulls his boxers off and works one finger into himself, moving quick and easy from that to two.

"Ahh...mmh," Bill whimpers, rocking forward on his knees and one hand as he opens himself up. He's impatient, forcing it a little. He's been waiting all _week_ for this, though, and he's having a hard time resisting his desire to hurry.

He reaches for the remote, flipping the game on and trying not to moan when the controller vibrates in his hand a bit, letting him know the machine is powering on. He strokes two fingers into himself rough and quickly, tempted to simply lube the wand up and sit on it right away, knowing that's a bad idea – it would hurt like hell and Tom would most certainly be asking questions when he wakes.

Bill sits up on his haunches, tugging at his dick and thumbing the slow-leaking wetness all around the head. He caresses himself, tugs his balls, nudges agile fingers over his perineum as he tucks in a third finger beside the first two and groans.

Making the third finger really work for him takes a little longer. Bill's quaking with impatience by the time his ass accepts three fingers with no resistance, and then he's ready to go for it. Body humming, he gets down on his knees again and lubes up the condom-covered surface of the wand. He presses buttons through the slick sheath and gets the game started, snorting at the spritely, whimsical music that starts up.

If any of the fangirls knew the type of dignity-killing, glitter-laden, princessy games Tom plays in the privacy of his own home, his gangster-aspirant brother's rep would be dead in the water _forever_.

Bill looks away from the television, presses the tip of the wand against his lube-anointed hole, and breathes deep. He has to nerve himself up to it. He's worried and exhilarated. This is going to be, in all likelihood, somewhat painful.

This is going to be _fantastic_.

He pushes the wand against his ass and opens himself up at the same time, bearing down the way – unsexy but effective as it is – he'd empty himself of waste. He groans with no thought for how loud it is as the remote slides in.

It's huge. Instantly intrusive. Painfully throbbing.

Bill grips it at the base of the string and pushes it deeper, moaning as he angles it and it's wide enough that it's blazing large over his prostate already. He's forgotten about the game until the vibration starts up, setting the wand to buzzing where it's buried in his ass.

"Oh jesus fuck," Bill expostulates, half-collapsing onto one shoulder on the couch and rolling his hips. He humps the towel and keeps a desperate grip on the wand, rotating his hips and twitching. His toes press rigid shapes against the couch. "Oh god oh god oh god..."

The flared shape is amazing, though no bigger than other things Bill has taken up his ass before. It's the vibration that pushes him over the edge into the helpless grip of sensation. He could be coming, he's got so much sexual overload going on, but he's pretty sure he's not actually orgasming yet as he spasms helplessly, which triggers fresh vibrations, which strum against his prostate, which make him flop around like a blissfully electrocuted rat. Mouse, perhaps, as Tom has jokingly bestowed the endearment on him.

"Oh god," Bill whines, drawing it out, trying to sit up to get the steepest angle but so pleasure-smitten he can't manage more than the weakest impulse to over-stimulated muscles.

"I thought that was my role," a deep voice interrupts the orgiastic cloud that obscures Bill from everything, including reason.

"Until you grow a vibrating dick, fuck off and let me finish," Bill grits through clenched teeth, too engaged in what he's doing for anything else, even shock. He ruts against the towel he's laid down and whimpers again as he twists the wand around inside himself, butting it right against his spot as it kicks off into a new, stronger wave of vibrations.

He almost loses his grip and falls onto his side, kicking out with one leg and spurting come all over the towel. The wand is jammed up inside him uncomfortably now but Bill's world is narrowed down to coming, because he still is; convulsing and making helpless involuntary noises as come keeps unraveling from the tip of his dick and the wand thrusts up inside him painfully large.

"Oh my god," Bill says again, weakly, reaching back to grasp at the unyielding remote. There's the down side; it remains hard when he's done.

Also, the wand has no propensity for cuddling.

"Sick," Tom pronounces, looming over the back of the couch and looking down at him with an unreadable expression.

"You're the one who watched me," Bill responds. He pulls the intruder out with a shiver, dropping the wand carelessly to the towel now that he's done with it. He loses interest in everything once he's 'had' it, with the exception of one thing. "You're the one who likes fucking your own brother, your own _twin_."

Tom's eyes flare and he's climbing over the couch, not even bothering to strip down his boxers; he pokes his erection through the front slit. "Better hope that wand was enough to warm you up," he growls.

Bill puts up a token struggle, moans, and gives in.

He _loves_ making Tom jealous over his own toys.


End file.
